


I'll be there to catch you

by Potato221B



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Abuse, Connor is OOC, Gay, I'm bad at writing, M/M, Orphans, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28095492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potato221B/pseuds/Potato221B
Summary: Evan Hansen is an anxiety ridden teenager with no sense of sociability or close relationships. He lives alone in an orphanage, with the occasional visit to a therapists office. He doesn't exactly live an idealistic life, and what he wouldn't give to change that.Connor Murphy has a family but he questions each day whether they really, truly care for him. He could see why they wouldn't. He isn't exactly the child that parents would want to brag about. He isn't proud of it, but he makes no move to change it.Neither person really noticed the other throughout their years in school. But when a school project forces them to interact, what will happen? Will they sit in their sorrow for life? Or will they collect the courage to tell each other the one thing they have wanted to tell?
Relationships: Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Why hello. You are here. I hope you are doing swell.
> 
> Welcome to "I'll be there to catch you."
> 
> If the name is familiar, it's because I posted this originally on Wattpad. Don't worry, it's not stolen. This is my own work. 
> 
> I would greatly appreciate if you wouldn't republish my work without my consent. I do not own the characters, but that's about it. The characters belong to the incredibly talented Benj Pasek and Justin Paul. But I spent time making the plot. If there is a line or portion that you would like to use, please ask for my permission. Subsequently, if you see my work elsewhere, please let me know so that I can take the necessary actions required. As of now, I only write on Wattpad and AO3, so anywhere else, it isn't me writing. I take my writing very seriously and I do not fool around.
> 
> I would also like to mention that this book involves violence, bullying and abuse. I have personally never been in an abusive relationship, so I may get things incorrect. Please remember that this book is not an encyclopedia on domestic violence, but a work of fiction derived from a musical. Please do not take things literal, as there is no guarantee if it's accurate entirely. Everyone copes and reacts differently. So if I portray recovery differently than someone else, please do not attack me for being incorrect.
> 
> Additionally, I hate writing stuttering in literature. It takes a long time, and I don't have a stutter and I know people who do get frustrated with people who do "I-I g-guess that's o-okay." Instead of "I guess- I guess- that's-that's okay-okay." Or whatever. (I probably got that wrong too. This is why I didn't even try in the novel). Please just assume that Evan stutters. He's an anxious bean who stutters, and I'll occasionally write in "he stuttered out" and such, but not every time. I do hope you understand because I don't want to offend or frustrate anyone. (Unless it's the frustration of them being blind to the other persons love, because in that case, full steam ahead.)
> 
> With all that out of the way, I hope you enjoy "I'll be there to catch you".

Young Evan Hansen gripped onto the railing of the staircase, watching his two 'parents' argue below him. He wearily watched as they shouted words that the ten-year-old boy had never heard before. Words that he didn't know had existed.

Yet his 'dad' said it so many times that it would be hard for him to forget them. In fact, he would be reminiscing of this moment for the rest of his life.

Evan knew that these weren't his real parents. They had fostered him since he was a child. Yet he was so young that he loved them as if they were his real parents.

Unfortunately, the inevitable truth is that married couple's fight. And, unbeknownst to Evan at the time, they were fighting over some inexplicably awful secrets that he wouldn't fully understand until he was older.

He had an older 'sister' named Mia, who was a great person to be around. She was almost fifteen, and a little bit rebellious if she were to be taken seriously. After a dare from a kid at school, she took a DNA test, only to find that her 'father' wasn't really her father.

In fact, her uncle on her father's side was. Apparently, her mom had screwed her uncle and, since her uncle and her father looked so similar, the secret went under the radar for fifteen years. 

Yet no secrets can stay hidden for forever. To the utmost dismay of Mia's mom, it had happened right during the rough patch of her marriage.

And it had ended up killing her. Evan could never forget that horrific scene that he had witnessed at the top of the stairs nearly seven years ago. The look of pure anger in his 'father's eyes as he picked up various objects and threw them at his 'mom'. She screamed at him to stop, but he never did. First, it had been a blue vase. Then, peach coloured plates. And soon, so many colours that Evan's head was spinning in an array of broken shards hitting the floor.

Evan couldn't look away from the scene, no matter how many tears filled his eyes. He was fascinated by it all, how someone could be so heartless to do such a thing. It pained him, but he was equally fascinated by it. The floor was covered in broken ceramic and glass pieces, and amongst them, the lifeless body of his 'mom'.

Mia had called the cops, and her father was put in jail while her mother was pronounced dead at the scene. Mia had held her little 'brother' during the whole thing, and she let him cry into her chest. The cops had asked to interview him, as he was the only witness. He had agreed, as long as Mia was by his side so that he could clutch onto her.

Evan was a good kid. He never picked fights, he always got at least 85% on all tests and assignments, and he had made a promise that he would never do something bad.

Because of that promise, it was strange to him that he was being interviewed by a police officer over the death of his foster mom. The officers got all the information out of him once he had spilt an ocean of tears in the trunk of a police owned SUV, Mia holding his hand the whole time.

Mia went to live with her aunt and uncle, who was her real father, while Evan went back into the system. Despite Mia's protests to let him stay with them, Evan had never been officially adopted. In fact, he was to have been adopted two weeks later.

That never happened. And after a tearful goodbye, they parted ways and lost contact with each other.

He floated around homes, but he was so traumatized and small things ticked him off to no avail. He couldn't stay rooted for more than nine months. It was frustrating, but by the time he had turned fifteen, he had become accustomed with the fact that he wouldn't ever have a family.

He sat up in his bed, looking at the green numbers on his decade-old alarm clock. It dimly showed the time of 6:36 in the morning. The clock was three minutes fast and so the true time was 6:33. Still, that was almost eighty minutes before he was supposed to wake up.

He looked around his room, the sheer size not deserving to be called a room. It was more of a closet. It was eight by six feet wide, being able to fit a twin bed and a desk, but not much else. Still, he preferred this over a room that he would have to share with other boys. He was one of the older kids, and so he got his own room. It made him feel like he had something in this life, even if it was only a small room. 

He sat in his room, opening up an eighty-page coil notebook that he had bought at Walmart for ten cents. He had a box of them, each one being dedicated to something. He had one for scrap story ideas, one for information about trees, one for a novel he was writing and three of personal diary entries.

He had one specifically for letters to himself. His therapist, Dr. Sherman, has recommended a letter to himself each day to structure his life.

He still wasn't sure how far along he was. Nonetheless, he did it. He wrote the letters, being happy if they took up ten lines. He sat there and began to write his letter.

Dear Evan Hansen,   
Today is going to be a good day and here's why. It's Monday, which isn't a good thing because of school. But there is light at the end of the tunnel. Today is ravioli night at 'Tony's'. You'll get the leftover ravioli that he didn't sell and you'll actually get to eat something today. Pray to god that Mrs. Beckham won't beat you today. Just hold your head up high and seize the day however much you can.   
Sincerely,   
Me

Of course, no one was going to read that letter. Those were personal letters, and Evan would rather jump off a bridge than let anyone read it. It was a collection of his deepest thoughts and feelings, and ones that he wouldn't ever share. He set the notebook aside and looked at the clock.

7:49. That whole thing had taken him over an hour and it was less than half a page. It was progress. Slow, but there.

He made his way over to his bed, getting down on his knees and pulling out a plastic lidded container. He had three of them under his bed. One for clothes, one for miscellaneous items and one for books. It was best to keep organized if he had such a small space.

He pulled out a pair of khakis that had been on sale as well as a red polo shirt. Today felt like a red day. He brushed his teeth and combed his hair in the communal bathroom, bringing his toiletries to and fro to his room. He didn't want anyone stealing his things.

Each child had an allowance of sorts that they could use on shampoo, clothes and other things. It was about varied from kid to kid, but Evan got roughly a few hundred a month. He would always take a quarter of it and put it in a savings jar, he would take another quarter and put it in towards college and the other half he would use on whatever he needed. He had learned to conserve his uses and his needs to make sure that he wouldn't spend too much.

Sadly, he spent most of his allotted cash on food since he wasn't fed enough here. It affected him on more than one level, and if he didn't wear baggy clothes, you'd be able to tell. You could see the outline of his ribs and he looked like a twig in a congregation of logs. It was not a good sight, and sometimes people would buy him a sandwich out of pure pity.

He hated pity, but he also hated the idea of dying of starvation. He decided to set the pity peeve aside.

He descended the stairs, the wooden panels creaking underneath his feet. He saw the kitchen, children scattering to eat and get ready for school at the same moment. Evan reached out for a piece of toast, his hand getting swatted by the one and one devilish Mrs. Beckham. She was about 45, with dyed blonde hair and a normal face, with green eyes that held a rude glare to them.

"Sweep the foyer, then you can eat."

He nodded, grabbing a broom and sweeping as instructed, watching the dust fly around before settling on the floor again. He did it up quickly before retiring the broom and the dustpan into the supply closet.

When he got back to the kitchen, there was no toast left. He was about to make more when Mrs. Beckham stopped him.

"Too late! You should have gotten up earlier. Now go before you're late to school."

He nodded, ignoring the empty feeling in his stomach. He pulled on his busted Nikes and got on the bus, heading to his school. He ignored the way other people looked at him and his cast. He had broken his arm falling off a tree.

He used the term 'falling' loosely. He wasn't sure if he had let go or not.

Walking into the school, he didn't mind attention to anything that didn't have his name on it. So basically nothing. He paid attention in class, but nothing else. What was he supposed to pay attention to?

"Hey weeb, you wanna stop staring at me?" Evan hadn't even noticed that he was staring into space in that kid's direction. He was huge and could snap him in half without breaking a sweat. The kid marched up to him and shoved him into the wall of faded green lockers. His lower lip quivered and he was on the brink of tears.

"Aw, what are you going to do? Cry to your mommy?"

In all honesty, Evan would have if he had a mom. But because of all of her secrets, she was gone.

Evan has vowed never to keep secrets, never to hurt someone the way his 'mom' had. He vowed to never make promises to anyone other than himself. He also vowed to never fall in love. It was just simpler for everyone and didn't make unnecessary conflicts or scandals to tear apart families and friendships.

But some vows can't be kept, now can they?


	2. ONE

The kid pushed him into the locker, getting right up in his face and spitting in it. He winced and the student threw him to the ground. The floor was a cheap laminate that covered the concrete foundation, so that if someone were to collide with it, it would hurt. And Evan could confirm that it did. The student drew his foot back and was about to swiftly send it into his torso.

"Hey!" He heard a voice shout. It was another student who had long, brown hair and a sharp jawline who stood in front of Evan's shaking figure. "Why don't you all fuck off? You heard me!" They scoffed, leaving the pair at the faded green lockers. Evan looked up at his saviour, trying to get a good look at him. He wasn't too muscular but he wasn't a twig like him. He turned around and knelt down to his level.

Evan got a clear look at him. His face was sharp, he had long brown hair and eyes that were a bluish-grey. He began helping Evan collect his things, incoherently muttering something as he did.

"You okay?" He asked, the tone of his voice being indecipherable.

"Yes."

He took the binders and such, setting them in a pile on the side. He looked at one book with particular interest. It was the novel that Evan had signed out of the library a few days prior. "Memory man by David Baldacci? I've never read it. What's it about?"

"A man who's wife and kid are murdered and he has to solve their murders. All that while he can't forget anything because of a football accident." He said in a shaky voice.

"Dang, that's fucked. It doesn't seem like a book a kid like you should be reading. You seem... innocent." He said this while cocking his head to the side while admiring Evan's mop of honey-blond hair on his head.

"Well, I relate to him. He thinks he's a freak and so do I."

"You think you're a freak?"

"Aren't you gonna agree?"

"Maybe I will. What your name?"

"It's Even. I mean it's Evan!" He corrected, blushing at his mistake.

"Hmm, I like Even. Nice name. Is it French?"

"Stop that."

"How'd you break your arm?"

"I fell from a tree." That wasn't the whole truth. Maybe he fell, maybe he let go. It really was nobody's business.

"Actually? Well if that isn't the saddest fucking thing I've ever heard."

He blushed in embarrassment, looking at the floor.

"Hey, no ones signed your cast yet." The kid pointed out.

"Oh yeah. Well-"

"I'll sign it." He took out a sharpie and grabbed Evan's arm.

"Ow..." He whimpered, and their eyes met. They were so close to each other that they could see the small features in each other. Connor had small flecks of brown in his eyes that stood out from the greyish blue. He wrote his name in big, bold letters on the side.

Now, half of Evan's cast was covered with the name CONNOR.

"Right. Thanks, uh, Connor."

The kid smiled and walked away, surely headed to his next class.

Evan didn't understand why Connor had helped him. His family was rich. Everyone knew the Murphy's for their wealth. So why was he associating himself with a poor orphan?

That was the question that bothered him throughout the day. He would be doing algebraic equations and he'd degrade himself in his mind.

Yet he had more pressing matters to deal with than his conscious telling him that he wasn't good enough for anything or anyone. It was why he was still in the system. No one wanted him. No one would ever want him, romantic or otherwise.

Sure, he had a crush on Zoe Murphy. So did half the school. She was the ideal version of a good student, a poster child. She behaved, was polite and did her work 110%.

Not to mention that she was beautiful. She had the face of a model and the hair of a goddess. She truly was Evan's dream girl.

If he was into girls, that is. He had found himself questioning his sexuality in recent times, wondering if he truly was sexually attracted to her. He wasn't sure. He had so much going on, love was the last thing he needed to worry about.

Plus, that would be breaking the vow of never falling in love. He wasn't going to fall in love. It would just be a burden on everyone.

He took a seat in his science class, watching with boredom as the teacher went on and on about the science of space. He liked looking at the stars but didn't want to have to listen to a teacher drone on about something that inevitably meant almost nothing to him.

"To enrich your understanding of these space entities, there will be a presentation that you will make with a partner, who I will assign. I will give you a topic and you must give a detailed, yet summarized description of the topic that I have given you."

She began to list off the topics and the pairs, Evan being partnered with Zoe. He was scared of three things: Having to present in front of the class, having to work with Zoe and having to interact with her family if they work at her house. He wouldn't let her come to the orphanage, so he would just have to suffer at her house.

"Would you like to come over to my place? I'd rather work there than in some public place. I don't trust the wifi anywhere else and all the VPN's that exist out there are literal shit "

"Right, okay. Can I get your number? Not in a creepy way! Just so I know how to contact you..."

She smiled at him, finding herself enjoying his nervousness. "Meet me in the south parking lot after school. I'll drive us to my place."

He nodded, sending a quick message to Mrs. Clarkson, the other lady running the orphanage, telling her that he'd be doing school work with a friend. She didn't care where he went, as long as he told her. When he received permission to go, he put his phone back in his pocket and went to lunch.

Of course, due to his lack of money and lunch, he didn't end up eating anything. And since he was going to Zoe's house, he might miss going to Tony's for his ravioli. In conclusion, he might not eat anything today.

It's not like anyone cared enough to feed him, and it wasn't like he cared enough for himself to do otherwise.

He went through the last two periods of the day, trying to calm himself down before going to the south parking lot. Zoe waved him over, signalling him over to her car, which was a grey BMW with leather seats and a touchscreen control panel.

"Nice car." He said, going around the back of the car, taking shotgun.

"It's really not. It was mom's old car."

"It's beautiful. I'd kill to drive a car like this once!"

"You really wouldn't. It's a piece of shit. I'm getting a new one in January."

"Wow, you're so lucky to have such nice things." He said with utmost sincerity, looking around at the interior, being scared that he would ruin such a nice thing by looking at it, as he always did.

"Oh please, it's nothing. Now, I have to pick something up at the mall, do you mind if I run an errand? It won't take long, promise."

He nodded and they drove to the mall, Evan immediately feeling out of place.

"So how did you break your arm?"

"I fell out of a tree."

She nodded and started walking in the direction of the expensive stores like Gucci, Cartier and Louis Vuitton. She walked into the Louis Vuitton and he followed her, gawking at all the things he would never have.

"Pickup for Zoe Murphy." She tapped the counter, signing the papers and paying in a fashion that would suggest she's done it a hundred times before.

The man behind the counter gave her an orange bag and she looked over the piece, making sure it was the right order.

"Have a good day." They parted with the man and went back to her car.

"Sorry about that, mom needs it for her fourteenth cousin who's having a baby. It's a custom made diaper bag."

He nodded absently, honestly not caring. But he didn't want to upset her or come off as bratty, so he just let her rant on about how Gucci messed up her order four times before they moved to other companies to deal with their orders. It fascinated Evan how one could have so much money and have the option to shop at such luxury establishments. It was amazing to him.

Sooner than he had wished, they pulled up to the Murphy residence. It was a large stone home located on the upper East side of Manhattan. It screamed rich and was surrounded by massive houses. He spotted a 'For sale' sign on a nearby lawn in front of a house which was smaller than the Murphy residence. Evan took out his beaten iPhone 5 and googled the realtor, clicking on the profile of that particular house.

$5,600,000. And the 'property economy' was at an all-time low. This meant that the Murphy residence could be worth at least $10,000,000.

He swallowed hard at the price and made his way up the clean cobblestone path, breathing deeply. All he wanted to do was make a good impression on the Murphy's.

At that moment, it was all he could hope for.


End file.
